It was a pretty lover's dream, if no more. Perhaps Tess's lineage
had more value for himself than for anybody in the world beside.
Her perception that Angel's bearing towards her still remained in no
whit altered by her own communication rendered Tess guiltily doubtful
if he could have received it. She rose from breakfast before he had
finished, and hastened upstairs. It had occurred to her to look once
more into the queer gaunt room which had been Clare's den, or rather
eyrie, for so long, and climbing the ladder she stood at the open
door of the apartment, regarding and pondering. She stooped to the
threshold of the doorway, where she had pushed in the note two or
three days earlier in such excitement. The carpet reached close to
the sill, and under the edge of the carpet she discerned the faint
white margin of the envelope containing her letter to him, which he
obviously had never seen, owing to her having in her haste thrust it
beneath the carpet as well as beneath the door.
With a feeling of faintness she withdrew the letter. There it
was--sealed up, just as it had left her hands. The mountain had
not yet been removed. She could not let him read it now, the house
being in full bustle of preparation; and descending to her own room
she destroyed the letter there.
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